


Seven Years a Mother

by sagiow



Category: Mercy Street (TV)
Genre: Conversations, Female Friendship, Future, Gen, Motherhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-03 00:21:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10955796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sagiow/pseuds/sagiow
Summary: A few minutes of peace, quiet and catching up with an old friend is sometimes all a mother needs.





	Seven Years a Mother

**Author's Note:**

  * For [middlemarch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/middlemarch/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Mother](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6792658) by [middlemarch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/middlemarch/pseuds/middlemarch). 



> This is gifted to middlemarch for her continuous support, always meaningful comments, incredible contribution to the fandom, and just being awesome. 
> 
> For more mother-themed stories, do check out her Mercy March series (I’m only 4/9 through the series and I'm sure she had tons of others in her 200+ works); "Mother" was the inspiration for the theme, and a fantastic study of a postpartum Mary, but that's where the borrowing stops :)

“I’m so glad you’re here,” beamed Emma as she returned to the bench under the tall oak tree and handed Mary a glass of lemonade.

Slightly shifting the sleeping baby in her arms and replacing the thin blanket around him, she accepted it gladly, and smirked. “Considering you asked Jedidiah and me to be young Henry James’ godparents, it would have been quite inconvenient to miss his christening,” she replied.

“Quite,” Emma agreed, and sat down next to her friend in the shade, enjoying the cool reprieve on this unusually warm spring day. The christening had taken place that morning in the small parish church Henry Hopkins now ministered in, on the outskirts of Alexandria. In front of family and close friends, he had performed the rite himself, sometimes growing overwhelmed with the immense joy of having a son onto whom to pass his name.

Afterwards, all had gathered at the Hopkins’ cottage for luncheon; as the afternoon waned and the temperature increased, guests gave their last congratulations and took their leave. No one now remained save for the Fosters, who, having come from Philadelphia, would stay on for a few days more. Both families had long looked forward to this reunion, and as the party wound down, were glad to finally have the chance to catch up.

Emma leaned back against the bench, eyeing her glass wistfully. “The men are already on their second round of the fine cognac Lisette sent to toast Harry’s health,” she muttered with a side-glance.

“At four in the afternoon?” Mary asked incredulously, then chuckled. “Well… if a beautiful, healthy son being born to our dearest friends isn’t reason enough to celebrate, I don’t know what is.” She rose her own glass to her friend with a wink, who beamed with pride as she looked at her little boy, and returned the toast happily.

 “It’s amazing how much he looks like you,” Mary said, admiring the baby’s black hair, its pointy nose and never-ending eyelashes. “And so small… it never fails to astonish me how tiny they are in the beginning. It feels just like yesterday, yet forever ago that Elias fit in my arms like this. And look at him now,” she added, gazing up across the yard to the tall, dark-haired lad throwing a stick to a small terrier barking excitedly.

“He’s such a handsome boy, and so kind and serious!” praised Emma. “Belle is quite taken with him already, she has barely left his side since you arrived.”

Mary smiled, almost apologetically. “Yes, well, him being the only child to a doctor and nurse working in our ever-expanding community of emancipated people seeking new lives, I’m afraid our home hasn’t been the most playful of houses, especially compared to his early years here. He has a few friends from school and the families we help, and does enjoy sports and games as much as any boy, but he’s always been more bookish than boisterous. Not like Molly,” she added with raised eyebrows.

Emma rolled her eyes and threw her hands up. “Malice, rather… I don’t know _what_ I’ll ever do with her. That child is wild. Henry is absolutely hopeless with her: no matter how much trouble she gets into, she always manages to charm him to her will within seconds, and comes out unscathed. Poor Belle… the trouble her sister drags her into, when she’d rather just play with her dolls, or draw! I don’t understand how twins can be so different!”

They looked at the two girls. Although their coloring was that of their father’s, the way their hair glowed under the sun evoked their maternal namesakes: whereas Belinda Jane’s burned like a flame as she picked flowers, Mary Alice’s, loose from their lost ribbon, shone like tangled gold as she wrestled the dog for the stick it had just fetched, shrieking with delight.

“You have plenty of time to turn them both into fine young ladies.” comforted Mary. “They are only seven.”

Emma sighed. “Yes, and it’s been seven years already since the war has ended. Can you believe it? Seven years of being a mother, of feeding, dressing, soothing, nursing my own children instead of soldiers. And now that they are starting to fend for themselves, starting it all over again with little Harry,” she added with a fond smile toward her son.

“How are you faring, so far?” asked Mary, concerned.

“After twins and with Belinda so masterfully running the house, this is a picnic,” she giggled. “He’s a good sleeper, which neither of the girls was, so that helps even more. Henry is beyond himself to finally have another child, and a son on top of it, and takes care of him from the moment he gets home to his bedtime. It gives me the chance to spend more time with the girls, help them with their schoolwork, try and teach them a thing or two around the house.”

“How are they with their new brother?” Mary continued, as they watched the three children, shouting at the top of their lungs, in hot pursuit of the dog, which had spotted a squirrel and bolted across the yard.

“As you can expect. Belle is thrilled to have a living doll and shadows me everywhere, always wanting to help me with him. Molly thinks he’s boring, cries too much and she prefers the dog,” she laughed, and Mary joined in. The sound and movement made the baby stir and purse his lips, and both women watched him in silence until he drifted back to sleep, soothed by the gentle bouncing his godmother provided.

The quiet pause had sobered the mood, and made Emma reflect. “It’s so different, becoming a mother for the second time. You think you won’t have enough love in your heart to share from your first to your other children, yet somehow you do. Somehow, a whole new section of your heart grows, purely for this new little person, and threatens to choke you with all the new affection you now feel.”

Mary smiled kindly, and Emma reconsidered of her words. “Oh no… Mary, I’m so sorry. How thoughtless of me! I didn’t mean-”

“Emma, please,” she cut her off. “There’s nothing to apologize for. Having Eli was the most unexpected gift, and not one we had ever dared to hope for. We were far from young, and with our previous marriages remaining barren… to be blessed with a healthy child! We could never pray for anything more.”

Mollified, Emma nodded, but a strain remained on her mind. “What I meant, was that I loved him from the second they placed him in my arms. But with the girls…” she stopped, weighing her words. “With the girls, I was just so overwhelmed by it all: I had only just begun to grow accustomed to being a wife and home-maker, and went into a long and difficult labor expecting a baby, but out came out _two_ minuscule people to take care of, that completely depended on me for their survival. From the first instant, Henry was absolutely enthralled with our daughters and did everything short of nursing them, but it was just so much, and we were both so exhausted… it’s like I had no strength left to fall in love with them. I felt so terrible, such a failure! Had you, Mother and Alice not come to give us a hand by-and-by, and had darling Belinda not come to work for us, I don’t know how we would have made it through.”

Mary grinned at the memory. “Yes, I was there with you a few days after the birth when Belinda barged into your house with your mother in tow and said “There’s no way my baby’s having two babies of her own and I’m staying away. Miss Jane, consider this my notice. Miss Emma, I’ll get dinner started and the house straightened up; you just worry about your girls.”

Emma laughed softly. “She was right. I had to take care of them, to get to know them, to bond with them and finally fall in love with them. It took some time still, but every day, as our new life found its pattern and became easier, loving them became easier, to the point where I realized I loved them more than anything. They drove me mad, at times, and now more than ever,” she smirked. “But still… they are my life.”

The two friends exchanged a smile, and Emma gazed earnestly at her friend. “When I came to help you after Elias was born, you were… different, somehow. Back then, being newly married, I thought that was just what motherhood did to a woman, but in hindsight… was it the same for you?”

Mary receded in her thoughts for a moment, slowly rocking the baby. “Not exactly. Becoming a mother was not easy for me either, but I loved him fiercely from the moment I realized his existence. Loved him, and desired him more than anything… yet I was absolutely terrified.”

“Terrified?” repeated Emma, quizzically. “How so?”

Mary shook her head. “I have never been scared of much in my life, but I was petrified by motherhood. I had mourned its possibility when my first husband died, and so was woefully unprepared when it struck me in the midst of the war. Jedediah was ecstatic at the prospect, but absolutely forbade me from continuing to work at the hospital, which I resented; I think it was our first major disagreement as a married couple, but him being the Executive Officer as well as my husband, I had little choice in the matter. Being home alone all day with little to do, I started worrying, overthinking. I was afraid of my pregnancy not coming to term, of us not making it through labor and delivery, of him not being normal. And still after his birth, strong as he was, I was terrified of him not thriving, of falling sick, of not waking up after being put to bed. I’d stand next to the crib and watch him sleep until Jed would come and take me to our room: I’d jump up to check on him the second he cried out, and the minute he no longer did.”

“And as he grew,” she continued, as Emma listened intently, “still I was terrified that I would not be a good mother, that he would resent us for taking him from Alexandria, that war would return one day and take him away from me. All those mothers who lost children in the war… I always felt truly sorry for them, but I never knew just how acute the pain could be until Elias.”

“And how are you now?” Emma asked, reaching to touch her friend’s arm in sympathy.

“Oh, better. Jed helps me so much. He’s always been so fascinated with Eli’s development, from the moment he was just this invisible, minuscule being in my womb. You would not believe the number of pediatric references he has read since finding out he was going to be a father; he’s actually developed quite a young clientele in his practice since. He is always focussing on Eli’s potential, on what he will be doing next, and encouraging him to reach it; whereas I would have kept him safely in my arms, he was the one putting him down and pushing him to walk. He just has this innate trust and excitement in seeing his child grow, and I try to take some from him. He’s also the one who encouraged me to be more involved in the community, to go back to nursing when Elias started school, and it has helped immensely to not be so wholly preoccupied with him. Of course, having Eli verbally tell me I should let him do more is also a good incentive. He is so eager to learn and be useful, both at home and with the people we help… I think that together, as a family, we are all helping one another become who we should be.”

Emma came closer, wrapped her arm around Mary’s shoulders, and rested her head against hers. “I've always admired you so, and I think you're absolutely wonderful as a mother, just as you were as Head Nurse, mentor and friend back in our Mansion House days. Being mothers, we live through the highest highs and the lowest lows anyone could ever experience, and you’re doing beautifully. Don’t you ever doubt it.” Mary’s eyes misted at the compliment, and she squeezed her friend’s hand in silent appreciation.

They were interrupted by a shrill shout. “MAMMA! Molly is climbing the tree and is really high up!”

“No I’m NOT! I still haven’t reached the squirrel!”

“Yes you are, the branch is bending! Mother, I think it’s going to break!”

At the same time, little Harry’s eyes shot open, but he immediately shut them back, contorted his face, and let out a loud, angry wail.

The two mothers pulled away, exchanged a glance, and smiled a sigh. “Rest is over, it seems,” Emma stated, finishing her glass before Mary handed her the screaming infant.

“Go feed your son, I’ll make sure your daughter doesn’t break her neck, and then we’ll go assess the damage Mlle Beaufort’s fine cognac has done to our fine men.”

“All this with plenty of time to spare until dinner,” Emma chimed in.

“Of course, and we’ll do it all beautifully,” Mary added, and they set out to the tasks at hand with happy hearts.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story with three mind prompts: short, happy, and related to mothering, as I was hoping to have it out for Mothers’ Day. I think I met these criteria, but just missed the deadline.
> 
> As I had nothing in my initiated story pipeline along these lines, I went off script and created this postwar vision of their lives. If you enjoyed it, maybe I’ll revisit it in the future!
> 
> The real Mary Phinney’s father’s name was Elias Phinney, and she was close to him as portrayed in the show. I’m sure you can figure out where Emma’s kids’ names are from :)
> 
> Kudos to all the moms out there! It ain't easy, but you ARE doing just fine, even when you take a few minutes to yourself to read fanfiction online! You deserve it!


End file.
